


From Paris, with Love

by CarmillaCarmine



Series: Slice of Life ficlets - Dissonance [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Dissonance, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy, Holidays, I mean it's so fluffy I can't believe I wrote it, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Paris (City), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Spanish Translation, Stand Alone, Translation Available, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21871552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: Sherlock takes John to Paris during the holidays. Fluff happens.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Slice of Life ficlets - Dissonance [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470122
Comments: 49
Kudos: 111
Collections: 2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge





	From Paris, with Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Desde París, con amor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820415) by [lockedin221B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221B/pseuds/lockedin221B)
  * Inspired by [Dissonance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358196) by [CarmillaCarmine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine). 



> This is a stand-alone fic.  
> However, it happens several months after the end of the punkrock band Johnlock AU ["Dissonance"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358196/chapters/43466693)  
> which is still a WIP.  
> You don't need to know the fic to read the ficlet :)
> 
> For @missdaviswrites’s prompt “midnight”  
> And for @sherlockchallenge’s December prompt “tie”

“Where are we going exactly?” John asked,  catching the duffel bag thrown his way. It was just after breakfast and Sherlock was already rushing about in a whirlwind.

“You’ll see.” Sherlock replied with an air of mystery about him as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Sherlock, I want to know.” John threw the duffel on their bed in protest.

“It’s on a need-to-know basis. Just pack for five days of cold weather.” He continued folding black apparel into his suitcase, which was open on the bed.

“We’re not going to Antarctica or somewhere extreme, are we?” John asked in trepidation, because he could never be sure with Sherlock.

“No.” Sherlock chuckled with mirth. “Just take your parka.”

“Five days away means we’ll miss Christmas.” John calculated out loud. Sherlock paused in his motions, a pair of black boxers in his hand on its way to the suitcase. His face became a mask of worry and that made John worry in return.

“I’m an idiot.” Sherlock whispered dropping the apparel into the suitcase and sitting on the side of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle between his parted legs. “I didn’t even consider that you might want to spend the Holidays with friends, not just with me. I stupidly assumed without enough data that just because I want to spend it with you, that-”

“There’s no one else I’d rather spend the holiday time with, Sherlock.” John interrupted taking a step towards his boyfriend.

“But you said-” Sherlock looked up then; doubt clear on his face.

“I know. What I meant was that we’ll miss Christmas at home, but there will be many more Christmases we’ll spend here together.” John placated, taking a seat next to his boyfriend on the bed. “Right?”

“I should have told you what I had planned. We promised to keep no secrets.” Sherlock steamrolled ahead with his worry, missing everything John had said. Then he half-turned to face John, straightening his back as if preparing for a confrontation.

“Sherlock, stop. Your brain is going too fast again.” John took one of Sherlock’s hands in his own and squeezed it. “A surprise is not the bad kind of secret.” He sighed, not really sure why he felt the need to know in the first place. Sherlock wouldn't take him anywhere John wouldn’t want to go, so there was no point wasting time arguing about it. “You know what,” John slapped his thighs as he stood up. “I don’t care where we’re going anyway.” He opened the top drawer in his chest and took a stack of folded polo shirts out. 

“You don’t?” Sherlock followed John’s movements with his gaze as his brows furrowed.

“No. Because we’re going there together.” John stated taking three pairs of black jeans out of the bottom drawer and tossing them into the duffel bag. 

The frown on Sherlock’s face deepened for a second before it smoothed out completely. He blinked three times then a smirk tugged his lips. John smiled in  response; glad Sherlock was back to his normal self.

“There’s no time to waste, then. Hurry up, John!” Sherlock exclaimed before jumping to his feet with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. 

\---

“We’re going to Paris?!” John whisper-shouted as he looked at the ticket Sherlock had just handed him at the airport.

“Yup.” Sherlock confirmed, walking gracefully towards the personal security screening line.

“Okay then.” John grinned and put his coat in a flat grey bin so it could slide through the electronic screening. He proceeded to fill the next bin with his phone, belt, and wallet.

“You’re not going to comment?” Sherlock asked narrowing his eyes as he placed his lined leather jacket in one of the bins with great care.

“Nope. I trust you and I’ll let you keep all the surprises this time.”

“ Humpf .” Sherlock grunted as he was unbuckling his studded belt. “Let me.” He mumbled under his breath making it hard for John to keep his composure.

John chuckled, continuing through the check. After a short stroll through the airport shops, and each of them buying a book to read on the plane, they finally boarded. 

\---

To John’s delight, Sherlock hadn’t booked an extravagant hotel, but a clean and simple room in a chain brand they could afford together. They dropped their luggage at the hotel, refreshed themselves, and went out into the city.

After exiting the hotel, they found themselves close to the  Arc de Triomphe and Sherlock guided them along Champs-Élysées. The chill of the evening was refreshing rather than cold and John took a lungful of air, feeling his muscles relax at the prospect of a lazy evening stroll. 

Sherlock put the collar of his winter leather jacket up, the lining clearly warm against his body as he looked up to the leafless trees, beautifully decorated with colourful lights, that lined the pathways. The sun was nearing setting and John marvelled at the sight of his boyfriend bathed in the orange hue. The breath-taking sight of Sherlock’s regal profile made John sigh audibly. He still had moments of awe that this brilliant and talented man was choosing to spend time with him. N ext month would mark a year since they’d met in a rehearsal space in the basement of an old Royal Academy of Music building. Since the moment John had caught the guitar thrown at him by Sherlock, his life had changed drastically, and for the better. In a whirlwind year full of concerts, they had grown from strangers to friends and then lovers who lived and played together. It had been the best year of John’s life and he mostly had the man that walked next to him to thank for it.

The street was busy, though there weren’t many pedestrians, which provided them with an air of privacy to enjoy the beautiful sights of Paris in winter. Prompted by his reminiscing, John took his right hand out of the pocket of his parka and tapped Sherlock on the elbow. Sherlock’s gloved hand slid out of his leather jacket and grasped his without a moment’s hesitation. Their fingers intertwined perfectly even with them both wearing gloves. It was the little things, like holding hands in public, that still meant so much to John and he hoped he would never take them for granted.

“It’s not that cold in Paris. Why the coats?” John finally asked, breaking the silence.

“It will get windy.” The smile in Sherlock’s voice was easily recognisable.

“Oh really?” John grinned, already suspecting where they’re going. The last time they had been to Paris, they had very little time for sightseeing and when John wanted to go on the Eiffel Tower, Sherlock complained about it just being windy up there and saying that the tower is not really that tall anyway. “I always knew you were a romantic at heart.”

“Shut up.” Sherlock’s words were filled with mirth and that confirmed John’s  suspicions .

“I think I know where we’re going now. Did you plan the rest of the stay as well?”

“Yup. I know you visited the city before and then again when we came here together a few months ago, so I skipped some of the obvious tourist attractions-” 

“Wait.” John interrupted the fast flow of words from Sherlock's mouth. “Don’t tell me what else you’ve planned. I want that to be a surprise too.” 

Sherlock nodded with a glint of mischief in his eyes that sent shivers down John’s spine as, clearly, Sherlock had more elaborate plans than going to the Louvre. 

They turned left into a smaller street and soon stopped to get bagels and sandwiches at a place called Bagelstein.

“Even though I know you can speak French, I’m always tickled when you do it.” John admitted once they were back outside. Sherlock had ordered their food without pause, using the foreign language confidently and the lilt of the smooth language in his signature baritone had had unspeakable effects on John’s libido. 

“Tickled, huh?” The smirk on Sherlock's face made him look predatory and John could tell he was already planning to use the newly acquired information against him. The very idea sent a wave of heat to John’s cheeks. “John such thoughts I see painted on your face.” Sherlock chided playfully. “Tsk  tsk , we’re in public.” 

“Shut up.” John tried to dim his smile, as it made it harder to bite into his sandwich. The way Sherlock looked at him caused John to reconsider the sightseeing in favour of staying at the hotel for the rest of the trip. For now, they continued walking to the nearest metro station and, just five stops later, they exited near the Eiffel Tower.

A spread-out crowd of people were looking up at the construction in the distance. Some of them were posing for photographs; some were trying to get the best angle of their face with the tower for a selfie, and some just stared in awe.

The famous construction was illuminated by myriad lights, twinkling like a shining beacon for those who sought joy and hope in the holiday season. John knew he had found all of that already as he glanced to his right to see Sherlock looking up, the lights reflecting in his pupils.

The grandeur of Sherlock’s gesture struck John fully only after he saw his boyfriend’s gorgeous face bathed in the lights and realised that the whole trip wasn’t just another one of Sherlock’s spontaneous ideas. Rather it had been carefully planned in advance and strictly with John in mind. The warmth inside him was all for the man who was so harsh on the outside and so thoughtful on the inside. It was a part of him John was privileged to see while so many people never  did. 

The sun had already set, the lights making the tower seem like it gleamed , keeping the people around them focused on it. Due to it being quite late in the evening, most of the tourists were couples and there were just several families with teenage children, but all of them  were enjoying the holiday spirit despite the chilly weather.

Once they approached the tower, Sherlock produced tickets from his pocket and handed  them to the staff. In return, they were handed leaflets with information about the tower then ushered towards the queue.

They entered the yellow-framed lift along with several other couples. John stepped close to Sherlock in the confined space, sliding his hand into his boyfriend’s back pocket. He could see Sherlock’s lips twitch in a smile at the familiar gesture. The ride up allowed them to see the iron construction on the inside through the glass wall of the lift and let them marvel at the ingenuity of the architect. They stayed inside when a few people exited on the first floor that was, according to their leaflet, situated at 57 metres high. John had expected to hear loud gears and creaking of iron when the lift moved but it was surprisingly quiet, letting John enjoy the feeling of Sherlock close to him.

As the ride continued, John was able to see the city below them through the beams of the construction. The doors opened and they were finally on the observation deck, overlooking the Seine and the buildings below. Sherlock took John’s hand and led him through the small crowd to the second deck of the floor where they could look at the views without the bars that were mounted below for safety.

The wind blew John’s hood down and ruffled his hair, but all he cared a bout was the breath-taking view and the man who had brought him here. John looked at The Champ de Mars, the park  where they  had stoo d b efore they went up. The flash of the cameras from the people standing in the park reminded him of being on stage, so far from the people below, yet one of them at the same time.  Not three minutes had passed when Sherlock started fidgeting. 

“Let’s go all the way to the top” He said into John’s ear as he stood behind him, the warmth of his body a clear presence behind John’s back. John nodded and pulled the hood of his parka over his head, holding it in place this time. 

It was nearly midnight when the next lift ride brought them to the top, 276 metres high. They exited on a small iron terrace, with several people around. The view was immensely different from the new vantage point. On the lower deck, John had been able to see people still awake at the late hour, enjoying the moonlit stroll. Now, however, he could only see an endless map of Paris, sprinkled with street lights, lights from buildings and various Christmas decorations on top of all that. The lit streets and the park below created picturesque blurry lines as if from an impressionist painting. 

John quite enjoyed the crisp air and the magic of the moment compensated the coldness he was starting to feel in his bones. He rested his forearms on the railing as he was looking at the city. A chill came over him from the wind and he scooted closer to his boyfriend who stood in a similar pose.

“It’s beautiful.” John announced sliding his hand behind Sherlock’s back to rest on his opposite hip.

“You can’t see the city clearly at night from here, but the lit tower can be seen from as far as Montmartre down below.” Sherlock said, clearly enjoying the experience just as much as John had.

“The lights make up for it.” John rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder expecting more information to come after Sherlock added that bit of trivia. He realised with astonishment that Sherlock hadn’t been reciting facts all the way through their exploration of the tower and it made him wonder if there was something else on Sherlock's mind instead.

“You’re not going to propose, are you?” John chuckled at the very idea then lifted his head to look at Sherlock when the man didn’t respond.

“ Uhhh ...I didn’t think of that.” came the response as Sherlock stiffened a bit, his now-wide eyes looking into the distance. Cold sweat broke on John’s back as he considered that he might have opened a Pandora’s box with a topic Sherlock was unwilling to discuss. Not now, and maybe not ever. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have pegged you to be that big of a romantic.” John patted Sherlock's biceps through the jacket in a desperate attempt at lightening the suddenly charged atmosphere.

“Would you though?” Sherlock looked at him then, his dark brows lifted slightly in question, his face clearly trying to hide some emotion wanting to take it over. John swallowed audibly, unsure what that emotion would be.

“Would I what?” John asked feeling his heart taking up a  staccato rhythm in his chest.

There was a pause and John watched Sherlock’s eyes blink against the wind blowing in his face, the usually slicked-back hair flying every which way.

“Marry me.” Sherlock finally voiced in a steady, low baritone that made John's knees weak just as the prospect itself had.

“Are you asking?” John’s voice came out higher than it had ever been since his teenage years as he tried to search for confirmation in Sherlock’s face whether or not he was being serious. He let his hand slide off of Sherlock’s hip so he could face his boyfriend properly.

“What if I am?” A corner of Sherlock’s lips lifted just slightly as the rest of his face fought for composure.

“Then yes. I would say yes.” John lifted his chin up, looking at his boyfriend, finally aware of what was actually happening. “If you were asking, that is...” He lifted one shoulder and let it drop, his actions defying the heat in his body, the thudding of his heart and the prickling in his eyes.

“Well, then I am.” Sherlock shrugged in reply, still looking at John with expectation in his eyes.

“Madman.” John  chuckled, blinking against the wind that made his eyes water. 

“Idiot.” Sherlock smirked before his eyes became hooded and his gloved hands cupped  John's cheeks.

Even though Sherlock leaned down to meet John’s parted lips with his own, John stood on tiptoes, holding onto the lapels of Sherlock’s jacket to bring himself even closer to the impossible man who had stolen his heart.

The noise of the people around died down in John’s head. All he could hear was his heart pounding and all he could feel were Sherlock's lips on his, Sherlock's tongue in his mouth and Sherlock’s arms now wrapped around him, holding him close. Just a year before, John would have never thought that he would meet, befriend, fall in love with and be happy to tie  the knot with such a brilliant man. Yet here he was, in the  C ity of  L ove, discussing getting married to his best friend. The fact that they were on top of the Eiffel Tower at midnight made it even cheesier and more romantic, defying everything they appeared to be on a daily basis. John had ceased to care about trivialities like that a long time ago and  just let himself enjoy the ultimate romance he had never even  imagined in the wildest of his dreams. 

When they finally broke apart, they huddled together, wordlessly holding onto each other and facing the beautiful views of Paris decorated for Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’d like to read about how the boys met and became friends, read or follow my punkrock band Johnlock AU ["Dissonance"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358196/chapters/43466693)  
> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments! They mean a lot and keep me writing!  
>   
> If you enjoy my writing consider subscribing to [my profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine)  
> :)  
> To read more Holidays-themed stories from me, check out: ["Festive Stories"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020148)  
> You can follow/contact me on:  
> [Johnlock Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sherlockedcarmilla)  
> [Johnlock Twitter](https://twitter.com/CarmillaCarmin)  
> For queries connected with translating my work, please see my bio :)


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